Perth: April 18th to 25th
And so to Perth. I think Virgin must hold auditions for their flight attendants in which the hopefuls must spend hours on end smiling without cracking a sweat. I am sure they have developed some kind of nice-ometer because all the staff on this plane were clearly born to do this job. Bravo, Virgin, it's nice to see a big company getting things right.
Perth City YHA is a modern day monsters of a hostel. It supposedly delivers what every modern traveller wants but, in my albeit humble opinion, I think they have rather missed the mark on this one. Yes, it's pretty clean, cheap, safe, and well lit. But when you're spending considerable amounts of time living in a foreign country, out of a backpack, alone, the most important thing a hostel can be is friendly. Here Perth YHA falls down. The staff at the desk are cold and disinterested. Unwisely the designers have opted for several small common rooms instead of one large one to encourage socialising. The guests busy about, heads down, behaving as though they were in a hotel. I know that the place is full of Elinors, Steves, and Nicks, but finding them was going to be a task. Luckily, in my small four bed dorm I meet a nice thirty year old Finn named Leena. She puts and end to my homesickness swiftly when I ask her is she
misses Finland. "No" she replies, "why would I, I'm in Australia!" I stand stock still blinking, She is, on this one, spot on. I receive some lovely texts from Eli and Nick that put a smile back on my face and climb into bed, vowing to enjoy myself upon waking.
On Friday, after a Thursday spent lounging at the beach, Leena and I make the forty minute bus trip out to Rottnest Island. The Aussies, bless them, like to shorten practically everything by chopping off half the letters and adding an 'o' to the end. 'Bottle Shop' (liquor stores) becomes 'Bottle-o', 'Fremantle' (a Perth suburb) becomes 'Freo', and 'Rottnest', inevitably, becomes 'Rotto'. Rotto is so named because the Dutch, when they discovered it, found it full
of large rat like creatures. These animals are actually called quokkas and are small marsupials found nowhere else in the world. Oh, and they're really, really cute. Rotto is about 11km long and so the best way to get round it is by bicycle. Rain spits lazily from the thin clouds overhead and the mist can't make up its mind whether it's coming or going as we peddle round the first half of the island. The road climbs hills and falls back down them, hugging the wild and impossibly blue Indian Ocean. We make it all the way to the end and stare out at the huge swell crashing and frothing around the craggy rocks, turquoise waves exploding against one another as the conflicting currents meet. The rain has stopped and so our cycle back round the other half of the island is more pleasant and I let go of my handlebars and sail down the hills.
This evening we are booked for a torchlight tour of Freo Prison, originally a convict colony but it served as a maximum security prison until its closure in 1991. Our guide is Jane, a slight middle-aged woman with sufficiently creepy eyebrows for such a job. We are given little torches and led through shower rooms, courtyards, and cells with nothing else for light. This makes things a good deal more scary as all you can see of the rooms is what is illuminated by the shallow beams from the torches. The main cell block is four stories high and looks exactly like that of the movie, The Shawshank Redemption. Everyone jumps when a scream tears the silence and a dummy lands with a thud on the suicide net above our heads. Jane shows us the exercise yard and tells us some gruesome stories. I spot, on the wall, finger marks left in blood. We are made to jump a few times as the evening goes on and it's great fun. And best of all, it's so un-British! If this were the UK there would be lighted walkways, big signs reminding you to watch your step, and handrails. A boy in front of me trips and falls down a couple of steps. And guess what? He doesn't cry, leave the tour, or try to sue. Ah Health and Safety, I do not miss you.
The next evening I meet Wendy. Wendy and I have chatted on and off on an online poetry workshop we've both been members of for years, and upon hearing I was in Western Australia, she invited me out with her friends for dinner at the wonderful establishment that is Fast Eddy's. Wendz and mates kindly buy me a burger and write messages for me all over a menu, which we steal. After dinner they take me for bubble tea in an attempt to, and I quote, "Asian-ize" me. Bubble tea is a strange cold drink that comes in hundreds of flavours with names like 'Winter Love' and houses these -I don't know how else to put this- boingy little balls that are apparently part of some plant or something but are definitely a lot of fun to ingest. Wendy is sarcastic, quick-witted, and a good listener and I am overwhelmed by her and her friends' hospitality. After a Sunday with Leena in the park I meet couchsurfer Annie for drinks in the Freo brewery, Little Creatures. There is a great bar and restaurant set inside the brewery itself, all twinkling lights and chinking pint glasses. Annie is a beautiful Asian chick who is smart and insightful. She introduces me to the incredibly friendly Ken, and fellow CSers Kait, Sarah, and Jay. The evening passes swiftly, and I enjoy myself. Annie has me round the next night for
dinner, after an exhausting day of necessary shopping during which I purchased the world's ugliest shoes. After noodles we spend a few hours in Annie's room, reading separate books and talking to one another only when something interesting presented itself to say. This kind of easy company is rare and I am thankful for it, especially here in the world's most isolated city.
Tuesday is day trip day. I am tired of the city and so, at the yawnfully early hour of 7am, I am picked up by Western Exposure tour bus 4x4. Driver Brian, a kindly all-Aussie man with lugubrious eyes, informs me that the rest of the tourists are Japanese and invites me to sit up front with him for some "English conversation". We drive North out of the city and into no-man's land. The road in places is little more than a dusty orange track stretching endlessly out
under a sky so huge I cannot find the words to describe it. Brian points out interesting flora and fauna as we make out way to our first stop, a national park where we are afforded a glimpse of several koalas. These are by far my favourite native Australian animals, not only because they
are so very cute, but because they are so, so lazy. Koalas sleep for an average of twenty two hours a day because they get very little energy from their diet of eucalyptus leaves. But will they eat anything else? Will they heck. We also get to see lots of kangaroos bounding around and nibbling at the grass, my first sighting this trip of these iconic animals. Later, on the road, I spot several emus. After a buffet lunch we reach the Pinnacle Desert. This is a huge
area of land, close to the wild coastline, where mysterious sandstone monoliths rise from the desert floor. It's a pretty impressive sight. The Japanese tour guide is an animated and slightly bonkers woman who insists on the strange pose you see me adopting in the above picture. Next Brian takes us for a 4wd jaunt over the Lancelin sand dunes before
we all get out and slide down them on sand boards- tame but fun. The rain comes down hard as I snooze away the journey home. That night I meet up with an English couchsurfer who just arrived in Perth named Christian. This boy can really talk, and I listen to some tales of his travels over a beer before returning home to pack. Hopefully Christian and I will be able to meet again on the East Coast.
I awake in the morning feeling excited. It's Indian Pacific day. I bid farewell to my roommates and meet Wendy and Lucky outside the hostel. Lucky is Wendy's muse and an absolute sweetheart, he buys me a Maccers breakfast and they wave me off as I board the train that sits, long and shining, at East Perth rail station. Next stop: Sydney.
Perth City YHA is a modern day monsters of a hostel. It supposedly delivers what every modern traveller wants but, in my albeit humble opinion, I think they have rather missed the mark on this one. Yes, it's pretty clean, cheap, safe, and well lit. But when you're spending considerable amounts of time living in a foreign country, out of a backpack, alone, the most important thing a hostel can be is friendly. Here Perth YHA falls down. The staff at the desk are cold and disinterested. Unwisely the designers have opted for several small common rooms instead of one large one to encourage socialising. The guests busy about, heads down, behaving as though they were in a hotel. I know that the place is full of Elinors, Steves, and Nicks, but finding them was going to be a task. Luckily, in my small four bed dorm I meet a nice thirty year old Finn named Leena. She puts and end to my homesickness swiftly when I ask her is she
misses Finland. "No" she replies, "why would I, I'm in Australia!" I stand stock still blinking, She is, on this one, spot on. I receive some lovely texts from Eli and Nick that put a smile back on my face and climb into bed, vowing to enjoy myself upon waking.
On Friday, after a Thursday spent lounging at the beach, Leena and I make the forty minute bus trip out to Rottnest Island. The Aussies, bless them, like to shorten practically everything by chopping off half the letters and adding an 'o' to the end. 'Bottle Shop' (liquor stores) becomes 'Bottle-o', 'Fremantle' (a Perth suburb) becomes 'Freo', and 'Rottnest', inevitably, becomes 'Rotto'. Rotto is so named because the Dutch, when they discovered it, found it full
of large rat like creatures. These animals are actually called quokkas and are small marsupials found nowhere else in the world. Oh, and they're really, really cute. Rotto is about 11km long and so the best way to get round it is by bicycle. Rain spits lazily from the thin clouds overhead and the mist can't make up its mind whether it's coming or going as we peddle round the first half of the island. The road climbs hills and falls back down them, hugging the wild and impossibly blue Indian Ocean. We make it all the way to the end and stare out at the huge swell crashing and frothing around the craggy rocks, turquoise waves exploding against one another as the conflicting currents meet. The rain has stopped and so our cycle back round the other half of the island is more pleasant and I let go of my handlebars and sail down the hills.
This evening we are booked for a torchlight tour of Freo Prison, originally a convict colony but it served as a maximum security prison until its closure in 1991. Our guide is Jane, a slight middle-aged woman with sufficiently creepy eyebrows for such a job. We are given little torches and led through shower rooms, courtyards, and cells with nothing else for light. This makes things a good deal more scary as all you can see of the rooms is what is illuminated by the shallow beams from the torches. The main cell block is four stories high and looks exactly like that of the movie, The Shawshank Redemption. Everyone jumps when a scream tears the silence and a dummy lands with a thud on the suicide net above our heads. Jane shows us the exercise yard and tells us some gruesome stories. I spot, on the wall, finger marks left in blood. We are made to jump a few times as the evening goes on and it's great fun. And best of all, it's so un-British! If this were the UK there would be lighted walkways, big signs reminding you to watch your step, and handrails. A boy in front of me trips and falls down a couple of steps. And guess what? He doesn't cry, leave the tour, or try to sue. Ah Health and Safety, I do not miss you.
The next evening I meet Wendy. Wendy and I have chatted on and off on an online poetry workshop we've both been members of for years, and upon hearing I was in Western Australia, she invited me out with her friends for dinner at the wonderful establishment that is Fast Eddy's. Wendz and mates kindly buy me a burger and write messages for me all over a menu, which we steal. After dinner they take me for bubble tea in an attempt to, and I quote, "Asian-ize" me. Bubble tea is a strange cold drink that comes in hundreds of flavours with names like 'Winter Love' and houses these -I don't know how else to put this- boingy little balls that are apparently part of some plant or something but are definitely a lot of fun to ingest. Wendy is sarcastic, quick-witted, and a good listener and I am overwhelmed by her and her friends' hospitality. After a Sunday with Leena in the park I meet couchsurfer Annie for drinks in the Freo brewery, Little Creatures. There is a great bar and restaurant set inside the brewery itself, all twinkling lights and chinking pint glasses. Annie is a beautiful Asian chick who is smart and insightful. She introduces me to the incredibly friendly Ken, and fellow CSers Kait, Sarah, and Jay. The evening passes swiftly, and I enjoy myself. Annie has me round the next night for
dinner, after an exhausting day of necessary shopping during which I purchased the world's ugliest shoes. After noodles we spend a few hours in Annie's room, reading separate books and talking to one another only when something interesting presented itself to say. This kind of easy company is rare and I am thankful for it, especially here in the world's most isolated city.
Tuesday is day trip day. I am tired of the city and so, at the yawnfully early hour of 7am, I am picked up by Western Exposure tour bus 4x4. Driver Brian, a kindly all-Aussie man with lugubrious eyes, informs me that the rest of the tourists are Japanese and invites me to sit up front with him for some "English conversation". We drive North out of the city and into no-man's land. The road in places is little more than a dusty orange track stretching endlessly out
under a sky so huge I cannot find the words to describe it. Brian points out interesting flora and fauna as we make out way to our first stop, a national park where we are afforded a glimpse of several koalas. These are by far my favourite native Australian animals, not only because they
are so very cute, but because they are so, so lazy. Koalas sleep for an average of twenty two hours a day because they get very little energy from their diet of eucalyptus leaves. But will they eat anything else? Will they heck. We also get to see lots of kangaroos bounding around and nibbling at the grass, my first sighting this trip of these iconic animals. Later, on the road, I spot several emus. After a buffet lunch we reach the Pinnacle Desert. This is a huge
area of land, close to the wild coastline, where mysterious sandstone monoliths rise from the desert floor. It's a pretty impressive sight. The Japanese tour guide is an animated and slightly bonkers woman who insists on the strange pose you see me adopting in the above picture. Next Brian takes us for a 4wd jaunt over the Lancelin sand dunes before
we all get out and slide down them on sand boards- tame but fun. The rain comes down hard as I snooze away the journey home. That night I meet up with an English couchsurfer who just arrived in Perth named Christian. This boy can really talk, and I listen to some tales of his travels over a beer before returning home to pack. Hopefully Christian and I will be able to meet again on the East Coast.
I awake in the morning feeling excited. It's Indian Pacific day. I bid farewell to my roommates and meet Wendy and Lucky outside the hostel. Lucky is Wendy's muse and an absolute sweetheart, he buys me a Maccers breakfast and they wave me off as I board the train that sits, long and shining, at East Perth rail station. Next stop: Sydney.
posted by Aisling at 9:25 PM
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